Yeah! I love Italian!
So you're coming?
Yeah, I told you I was!
No you didn't.
Yes I did!
Nope. You didn't.
No, you really didn't. I need a headcount.
Oh- um- yes, coming. Sorry.
Did you get my e-mail? About the recipe?
Yeah- I replied- just make sure to add basil.
You didn't reply.
I did! Checking sent mail. Oh. I didn't. Sorry.
If you have tried contacting me in the past six months: I'm sorry.
A very strange thing has been happening post-baby. I get e-mails. I read them. I think about them as I head to bed, composing perfect responses and even nifty quotes to emphasize a point- and then- I believe I sent it off. Likewise, phone messages. I check them. I smile. I tell myself must call her back. and, I wonder how her vacation went. and need to know what she thinks of Mad Men. And then, I believe I called you back. [And lets not get into how many of you are miffed at my lack of replies to texts and cell phone calls because let me tell you that shiny jingly object fascinates my baby and he flips it under sofas and under car seats- and I often don't find it for weeks on end- and yes I am blaming it on the baby!]
Apparently childbirth has made me think my thoughts are telepathically conveyed to you all. And they're not. I feel bad. I value you. I care about you. But I forget that I did not respond to you. I believe this has something to do with sleep and the fact that I don't get any of it. I'm trying to get better about it. I put stars next to e-mails that need replies. I state in my cell phone voice message that I'm bad about answering it thus putting people on notice. I'm working on it. But please don't give up on me! Because its not you, its me. Really. [And please tell me someone can relate? I'm hoping its not just me.]